


Remembrance

by Kexing



Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: Community: blind_go, Fluff and Angst, Hell Dimension, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-05 05:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kexing/pseuds/Kexing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akira licks his suddenly dry lips.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he says again. “You said, ‘in your possession'. Who exactly are you?”</p><p>“Oh, I am sorry for not clarifying. We’re Hell, of course.”</p><p>“Hell?” Akira finds himself feeling dizzy again, “Shindou made a deal with <i>Hell?</i>”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A special thanks to the amazing Izumisays who betaed the whole thing before Blind Go. I would never have gotten it in without her and all mistakes in this are definitely my own.

It is a sunny Friday in early May and Akira wakes up with a strange, painful feeling in his chest. He has no idea where it is coming from. It worsens as he gets up and walks in to the kitchen and when he puts the kettle on Akira realizes that his hands are shaking and he can’t seem to make them stop. He eats breakfast and gets ready for his teaching game trying to shake off the feeling but it follows him, a heavy and painful sickness in his chest. It feels like a cold hand has pushed into his chest cavity making it hard to breathe. He has the completely illogical feeling that he’s losing something utterly vital, but can’t for a moment define what that would be. _Something is wrong_ , the air seems to whisper, _something is wrong, wrong, wrong_. No matter how much he tries he can’t ignore it and it is eating away at him, leaving him increasingly afraid. Akira doesn’t consider himself as a person prone to unexplained anxiety and he doesn’t believe in premonitions but the insistency of the feeling really unnerves him. A deeper, more childish part of him just wants to go back to bed and crawl under the covers, as if hiding from the world would make this go away. For the first time in years he actually feels unwell enough to consider calling in sick. 

Akira is a responsible person, however, and his personal sense of duty forbids him to resort to such childish behavior. No matter how bad he feels, calling in sick would inconvenience a lot of people and there doesn’t seem to be anything physically wrong with him. He shakes his head, clenches his teeth and prepares to leave the house, hoping that fresh air and sunlight will help alleviate the fear. He has _obligations_. He can’t spend his day hiding under his bedcovers because he’s _afraid_.  
As he grabs his keys on his way out the door the world tilts-

-and then, suddenly, he is sitting in a chair in front of a large desk in a small, very neat office. A man is sitting on the other side of the desk and is smiling pleasantly at him. Akira blinks, and then blinks again. He experiences a sudden spell of vertigo.

“Wha-”

He clears his throat and tries again but no words are coming out. This has to be some kind of a dream. He carefully closes his eyes and opens them again. He is still in the unfamiliar office, sitting in front of the same pleasantly smiling man. A sense of panic is starting to claw its way out of his chest.

“Ah, Touya-san. What a pleasure to meet you. I do apologize for the abrupt journey. I thought it would be easier this way.”

Akira just stares at him. Generally (well, with some notable exceptions) he considers himself capable of staying pretty levelheaded and calm in stressful situations, but right now he can almost feel his sanity fraying at the edges. This _has_ to be a dream, but every instinct he has is screaming at him that it isn’t. The panic is speeding up his heart beats and it feels like he can’t get air into his lungs.

The man seems pretty unconcerned with Akira’s imminent meltdown, however; he just keeps smiling. He looks like an exceptionally ordinary man. A man you could find in every office in every town of Japan. So ordinary, in fact, that it in some bizarre way crosses the line into extremely unsettling.

“Well then,” the man says, still very pleasant and now a bit brisk. “Now that you're here, let’s get down to business. I do apologize again for the inconvenience, but we have something in our possession that is noted as your property. We were hoping that you would either sign it over to us or make a formal claim on it. Bureaucracy, you know.”

Then he looks expectantly at Akira. Akira stares back, eyes wide and scared. _I’m going insane_ , he thinks. _This cannot be happening. I’m going insane_. The office is completely and utterly quiet. Not a sound can be heard. No noise from traffic, no birds, no voices, not even a sound of a chair moving or a rustle of paper. The only thing that Akira can hear is his own panicked breathing. The man doesn’t move nor does he appear inconvenienced by the silence. He continues to look at Akira with exactly the same face. Pleasant. Expectant.

Akira takes a deep breath and then another one. Bites his lip until it almost bleeds.

“I’m sorry,” he says “I… I don’t quite understand. What property is it you have, exactly?”

His voice is shaking, but right now Akira settles for actually getting the words out. The man nods agreeably. 

“Ah, yes, of course, I apologize if I am getting ahead of myself. You are of course familiar with Shindou Hikaru?”

Absurdly, the first thing Akira experiences when hearing Shindou’s name is utter relief. Yes, of course everything here is absurd and nonsensical. _Shindou_ is involved. That helps Akira find his bearings and gets his voice working properly. Then the rest of the man’s words catch up with him.

“I don’t… I’m sorry? Shindou isn’t _mine_. I don’t understand- What do you mean ‘have in your possession’?”

Apparently he still isn’t terribly coherent.

“Ah.” The man says and nods again. He never changes his expression. It is stuck on pleasant, like someone painted his face on with permanent colors. Without knowing why Akira suddenly gets the horrifying suspicion that someone actually has.

“Well, of course Shindou Hikaru himself is not your property, but according to our notes his go actually is.”

Akira blinks at him again. Shindou’s go. Well Shindou’s go does belong to him in a way. Just like Akira’s own go belongs to Shindou. It is a part of their never ending rivalry. _You are my rival and I am yours. Your go is mine and mine is yours_. It isn’t something Akira has ever vocalized to himself but he still suddenly and absolutely knows that it is true.

“Yes,” he agrees “Yes, it is.”

“Splendid,” the man says. “Well, allow me to summarize the situation. Shindou Hikaru has recently come in to our possession but it has now become apparent that he was bringing property that wasn’t, strictly speaking, his own. Regretfully we can’t actually separate his go from his soul so we were forced to involve you. Again, I do apologize, but it shouldn’t take too long.”

Akira licks his suddenly dry lips.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “You said, ‘in your possession'. Who exactly are you?”

“Oh, I am sorry for not clarifying. We’re Hell, of course.”

“Hell?” Akira finds himself feeling dizzy again, “Shindou made a deal with _Hell_?”

For Akira Hell is a very abstract place. He knows the concepts of yomi and jigoku. His grandparents enjoys telling stories, so he knows about the land of the dead with its opening in Higashiizumo, about Enma judging souls in the underworld and the terror of the eighteen levels of Hell. But that is about it. The concept of making deals with Hell is utterly incomprehensible to him.

“Well, a division of one of the Hells, to be precise. And not an official deal as such. He was trying to reacquire a ghost, as I understand it. But he didn’t quite understand the workings of the universe. What he was trying to achieve is not actually possible. As a result he opened the wrong door, and now we have a very inconvenient situation on our hands.”

Seeing Akira’s bewildered expression he hums and continues.

“I seem to be getting ahead of myself again. Allow me to explain. If you get caught in Hell you become the property of that Hell. But, at the same time, all things you bring in to Hell must exclusively belong to you. Since the relevant regulatory provisions states that no human can be property of another human this has never actually been an issue before. But it seems that in their current edition the regulations do not deny ownership rights to someone else’s _go skills_ which puts the whole acquisition of this particular soul into question. It was quite unexpected. The legal team is very upset. “

He says everything with the same bland pleasantness. Akira sits still for a couple of moments and tries to wrap his head around the notion of legislation in Hell. Then he takes a few moments to imagines, in colorful detail, all the ways he is going to kill Shindou over and over again. After Akira gets him out of hell, apparently. This whole experience is surreal, but right now Akira’s only options seems to be either screaming hysterically or accepting that this is actually happening. Since screaming probably won’t get him anywhere, he tries working on acceptance. He is going to save up all that screaming until he can do it straight into Shindou’s stupid face.

“So,” he says, trying to sound calm and collected even though his voice is still trembling. “What happens now?”

“Well, the easiest way to resolve this is of course if you would just sign this paper giving up any and all rights to the go in Shindou Hikaru’s possession. You would of course be generously compensated.”

The man pauses to look at Akira’s face and something like genuine amusement slithers under the unmoving pleasantness. Maybe from the real being under the painted face.

“No, I see that you don’t consider this an option. Well, if that is the case you can of course make you claim official. If you succeed Hell will relinquish its entire claim on Shindou Hikaru and you will both be within your right to leave. If you fail, however, all property rights will be lost to you.”

Akira sits very still.

“And how do I make my claim?”

“You will be granted entrance into the Hell where Shindou Hikaru is currently residing and if you make him verify your rights to his go, you are both free to leave.”

That sounds suspiciously easy.

“So he just has to agree that his go is mine?” Akira says doubtfully.

“Well not exactly. Shindou Hikaru absolutely acknowledges that his go is yours, if not we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. What you have to do is make him remember.”

The man’s constant use of Shindou’s full name grates on Akira’ nerves. It sounds like he is talking about a product in a store. He carefully consider what he has just been told, and then slowly says, 

“You said that anyone caught in Hell becomes the property of that Hell. Wouldn’t that automatically apply to me as well? If I go to the same place as Shindou, wouldn’t that Hell just claim me and all my possessions including Shindou’s go?”

That amusement flickers under the surface again.

“Very logical, Touya-san. But no, since this is a contract dispute you are regretfully not subject to the regular Hell legislation. You will be protected, at least for the duration of the dispute.”

Something seems to ripple under the unmoving, smiling face, something like hunger.

“We can of course not guarantee you are safe from getting caught in the despair of Hell. That’s your own responsibility.”

“How do I even know you are telling the truth?” Akira says, but even as he asks it, he knows the question is absurd. Because he just knows. He knows with the same certainty that he knows where his hand is or that he is breathing. It is a bone deep knowledge, wedged in the deepest part of him. _This man does not lie_. 

The man just continues smiling at him.

“Yes. Alright.” Akira agrees, suddenly exhausted. I suppose you wouldn’t want to tell me what exactly it is that I have to do to make Shindou remember?”

“On the contrary Touya-san. You have the right to know the basic premise of this case. You are a claimant; that gives you right to information.”

Akira has a very strong feeling that Hell did not make up these rules on its own but he doesn’t comment.

“To make Shindou Hikaru remember you need to show him the things that make up his go in the first place. You are, of course, one important part of this and Sai is the other.”

It sort of feels like being punched in the chest. It isn’t that Akira is totally clueless about Shindou and Sai’s connection. Shindou has promised to tell him some day, after all, and sometimes he slips up and mentions small things. A game, a joke, a story half told about something Sai said or did that never gets finished because Shindou suddenly catches himself. “Sai is in my go,” he once told Akira, on their way home from Hokuto cup, still on the verge of tears. “So I’m playing for him.” But ultimately Sai remains a mystery. He is still something that Akira doesn’t understand after all these years and some days it drives him nearly insane. 

“But I don’t know who Sai _is_ ,” he says between clenched teeth. “How is that supposed to help me?”

The man watches him with the same unshakable pleasantness.

“That’s very unfortunate for you, isn’t it?” he says agreeably.

Akira has gone through his whole life without having to hit anyone, but right now it takes serious effort for him to not punch the man in the face. But the anger helps with the fear and for the first time since he got here his voice is steady when he opens his mouth.

“Fine,” he says coolly. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

“Some small formalities. If you succeed in finding Shindou Hikaru and making him remember, you will need to leave through the blue door you entered Hell through. Shindou Hikaru will not be able to leave without his memories. You have one week Touya-san. If you have not left by then, with or without your property, all special rules are null and void for you. You are entitled to go about the task anyway you like and no being created by Hell can consciously hinder you, lie to you or refuse you information. If you have any questions while inside Hell please use the red phone beside the blue door.”

“Will it-” Akira takes a deep breath and lets it out “I mean, is it dangerous?”

“Physically? Oh, no, no. We’re not a flashy kind of Hell. It is a very small, family run enterprise. It has just built its world based around Shindou Hikaru’s fears and despair. It is quite safe.”

It doesn’t sound safe, but that same bone deep instinct from before keeps telling Akira that this is not a man who lies. He might leave things out or avoid the truth but anything he says outright will always be accurate. So he clenches his fists and nods shortly.

“Alright, I’m ready.”

The man nods, raises his hands and a blue door appears from nowhere in the middle of the room.

“Here you go Touya-san. I would wish you good luck, but your luck would mean a loss for us, wouldn’t it?”

And Akira turns his back to him, opens the door and steps through.


	2. Chapter 2

It is daylight and he is in Tokyo. The door he stepped through led out into an ally, but when he steps into the light he is looking at the bustling crowds in Shinjuku. Akira is bewildered. He looks around, searching for anything that seems menacing or threatening, but everything is sunny and normal and people are hurrying on their way. He has no idea how a person can get stuck in despair here. What would Shindou be afraid of? Akira doesn’t know. Sometimes Shindou unwittingly drops hints, when he forgets there are things he shouldn’t be talking about, but he is also pretty exceptional at changing the subject and evading any further questions. 

Akira stands still for a moment still trying to sort out his head, and then the morning catches up with him. He finds a bench, sits down and very quietly proceeds to have something suspiciously similar to a nervous breakdown. His heart is pounding in his ears and he can’t seem to catch his breath for a long, long time. 

Eventually he calms down and tries to figure out something which remotely resembles a plan. He finally decides to find an Internet café. To make Shindou remember he first has to locate him. The impossibility of what he has set out to do is gnawing in the back of his mind but he refuses to dwell on it. He will find Shindou, he will bring him home and then he is going to kick his ass. This is not up for debate regardless of what Hell has to say on the matter. He walks carefully, looking around for hidden threats but everything stays the same. This looks just like the Tokyo he knows, down to the location of the Internet café. At first this familiarity was almost a relief but now this sameness is starting to disturb him.

At the café he tries to do a search on Shindou’s full name but can’t find anything that seems relevant. He thinks that Shindou might be a go pro here too, but a search of Weekly Go’s archives reveals no mentions of his name either. He sits still for a moment, trying to think. Then he fishes his mobile out of his pocket. There is no network coverage but the phone book still works. He finds Shindou’s number and stares at it for a while. It can’t be that easy. He does an Internet search for the number but a completely different name comes up. He goes through his phone again. Finds Shindou’s parent’s number. Does another Internet search. And there it is: same name, same address and the number still seems active. Akira blinks. Can that really be it? It just feels too easy, too much like some trap just waiting to spring, but under the contract conditions he is supposed to be safe from direct harm so Akira has no idea of what the point of a trap would be. Anyway, it’s not like he has any other options at the moment than calling the number and working from there so he draws a deep breath and goes off to find a phone.

Finding a phone in Tokyo when your mobile isn’t working is harder than one might think, but Akira does actually manage to find a phone booth which takes honest to god coins. He stands still for a moment to calm himself down, then he dials Shindou’s parent’s number.

Shindou’s mom picks up almost immediately. Akira almost introduces himself with the usual familiarity until he remembers that she probably has no idea who he is. That feels strange. Those times he has met her Akira has always liked her even if Shindou often seems to be embarrassed over her fussing. The idea that they might be complete strangers here feels surreal. 

He introduces himself as an old classmate and asks for Shindou. Shindou’s mother sounds a bit hesitant, but she also seems genuinely glad that he called. 

“It would be so nice if Hikaru could connect with his old classmates again. He gets lonely sometimes, I think.”

She gives him both Shindou’s phone number and his work address and even manages to invite him for dinner sometime. Akira feels strangely guilty for lying to her. After he hangs up he stands very still staring down at his hands. Because this is still far too easy and doesn’t match his, admittedly vague, ideas of Hell at all. Isn't Hell supposed to be... unpleasant? Cleansing in some way? What is a caring, concerned mother doing in Shindou’s personal Hell and how is she a part of the world built on his despair? And why is everything going so smoothly? He is pretty sure that no worker of any hell dimension would let him stroll through this like it was a walk in the park. He’d assumed that finding Shindou would be a lot of work. Even if helping Shindou regain his memory is the biggest challenge he thought there would be more obstacles along the way. It makes no sense. If Hell great master plan isn’t to make him sit here for a week and overanalyzing everything. 

The truth is that Akira is scared and that pressing feeling in his chest from this morning is still there, painful and twisting. The normalcy of this world is starting to feel threatening in itself and he has no idea how to handle it. But he has to find Shindou and for that reason running away, as always, is unthinkable. He knows where he has to go.

The work address Shindou’s mom gave him turns out to be a small corner shop hidden away between two buildings on a bustling street not too far from the Go Institute. Akira feels fairly sure that he has walked past this very store in the real world. He pauses just before opening the door trying to imagine what he will actually find inside. It is still incomprehensible that this world is built around Shindou’s fears and despair when it looks just like the real world. He keeps expecting something to break, to see the sunny façade crumble to show the real horror underneath, but it just keeps being Tokyo, seemingly no more dangerous than it has been during Akira’s whole life. 

The store is dark and it takes a while for his eyes to adjust after entering, but when they do there is Shindou. Behind the counter of the store with messy hair and a worn out sweater talking listlessly to a girl. It is Shindou’s childhood friend Akira realizes, Akari-san. She is trying to press a bag with something that suspiciously smells like food into Shindou’s hands.

“Hikaruu,” she says “you can’t live on ramen. Can you please just take the food?”

”Whatever. Stop nagging. Don’t you have a boyfriend to take care of? Why are you bothering me?”

It doesn’t really sound like Shindou. It is his voice, but something is off with it. It sounds hollow.

Akira feels uneasy but clears his throat and both Shindou and Akari-san turns to look at him. Akari-san looks embarrassed and apologetic, Shindou looks – Shindou looks empty. 

Akira can’t breathe. In all the years he has known Shindou, all the years they have been chasing and fighting and playing each other Shindou has always looked intensely alive. There has always been this drive and focus and challenge in his eyes, like a light pulling people in. Akira has never really realized it before, never understood how big a part of Shindou that light is until now, face to face with a version where it’s missing. This Shindou doesn’t care and it is so wrong, so against Shindou’s very nature that it feels like a punch in the face. _I don’t know this man_. 

The shop seems grayer than the world outside he suddenly realizes and unnaturally cold. As if whatever is wrong with Shindou is growing and breathing in here. Something ice cold presses against the back of Akira’s neck. He feels a bit dizzy. 

_Wait, what am I doing here again?_

He draws a deep gasping breath and shakes his head but something is trembling inside him. _You’re here because Shindou is an utter moron_ he tells himself. Amazingly enough that helps, that single thought clears Akira’s mind and makes him angry, because why does Shindou always have to be the center of things like this, _the asshole_. It is a good anger though, hot and alive, and it chases off the traces of cold pressing around him. 

He realizes that Akari-san is staring at him, which considering the circumstances is probably pretty natural. Shindou on the other hand seems indifferent.

When Akira doesn’t move Akari-san shifts uncomfortably and Shindou sighs.

“Hey, you. Do you want to buy something or what?”

He looks at Akira with a sort of bored contempt which makes Akira clench his fists so tight that his nails cuts into the palms of his hands. From their very first meeting Shindou has had an uncanny ability of getting under his skin and this version, this obviously wrong, horrible version is raising every hackle he has. _Take deep breaths_ , he tells himself. _You are here for a reason, remember?_. The more meticulous side of Akira desperately wants a plan, a detailed script that he could follow, but he has been playing with Shindou long enough to have learnt to go with the unexpected. He will need to know key pieces to analyze the game and getting an understanding as to what exactly Shindou remembers should be the best first step.

He looks at Shindou carefully “I’m sorry, you’re Shindou right? I think we might have met before? We have a friend in common. Sai.”

It might not be the best of opening lines, but Akira is feeling pretty much out of his element and he hopes it’ll get the job done. He desperately wishes that they could have had this conversation in front of a go board.

“We know each other? From where? A girls-only boarding school?”

The blatant disbelief in Shindou’s voice is obvious as he gives Akira a once-over and Akira bristles when he feels those eyes on him, following the line of his jaw and lingering with disdain on the length of his hair. Despite his well-mannered image Akira isn’t a very patient person. Shindou is the one who waits and lays traps, Akira prefers to line up his pieces and go to war. Right now, it takes an awful lot of self-control to not just launch himself at Shindou, slap him in the face and shake him until he remember exactly who he is and where he belongs. But if this place actually works like the real world getting arrested for assault probably isn’t the best attack strategy, so he clenches his teeth, and tries again.

”But you are Shindou Hikaru, right? And you know Sai?”

Shindou’s eyes grow distant again and the dull emptiness is worse than the contempt. Of all the things Akira has faced from Shindou over the years, this kind of utter indifferences isn’t one of them. He has never really realized how spoiled he is by Shindou’s constant attention until it isn’t there anymore.

“Look. Yeah, I’m Shindou. But I don’t know any Sai. You probably got me mixed up with someone.”

No Sai then. If Sai actually is Sai’s real name, but that isn’t a very constructive thought. Akira can feel his cheeks heat in frustration and he is still considerably shaken by this version of Shindou. All the way here he has thought he would be dealing with the Shindou he knows. Maybe a version who wouldn’t know him, but one whose button Akira learnt years ago. This one, however, he has no idea how to even talk to. It is like an alien is talking to him from behind Shindou’s skin. There must be a common baseline, he tells himself, just keep trying.

“I think it maybe you know him from the go club?”

He purposefully leaves the details vague. He knows Shindou started go as a kid so with or without Sai he should be involved in something go related even if his motivations are different.

He can see the error of that in Shindou’s face almost before he ends the sentence.

“The _go club_?”

The sheer incredulity in Shindou’s voice makes Akira clench is teeth so hard it hurts. Nothing go related at all?

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you have the wrong person”

Back to hollow again. This Shindou seems to have trouble feeling much of anything. For one moment Akira wonders if this actually is Shindou, or if it is some sort of constructed hell puppet laid out to distract him from the real version. But as he looks around and thinks that through he realizes that this Shindou, no matter how hollowed eyed and apathetic he seems, is more tangible than Akari-san who is still fussing over him or the interior of the shop. This Shindou looks solid while everything else is just a little bit faded. That is a relief in a way, but it still means that Akira is stuck trying to figure out what the hell he is supposed to do. His eyes are burning a bit but he firmly tells himself that it is because he is tired.

Akari-san smiles at him apologetically. Just like with Shindou's mother, there doesn't seem to be anything particularly hellish about her. She looks and sounds like the same sweet girl she always has, just a little bit more faded.

“I’m sorry" she says. "Hikaru has always been uninterested in that sort of thing. His grandfather has been wanting him to play forever, though.“

Shindou snorts and Akira finds himself staring again. A Shindou who has no love for go. Maybe it was true once, for the boy Touya met when they were twelve, but not ever during the years that has followed.

Shindou must have noticed the scrutiny but it doesn’t appear to bother him much.

“Did you want anything?” he says dully.

And Akira realizes he can’t stay in this room anymore. He has to leave, sit down and think things through. Right now he is unbalanced, strangely cold and irrationally hurt by Shindou’s indifference and what he needs is properly formulate a plan of attack. 

“Nothing,” he says “I. I need to go.”

And then he flees from the cold constraints of the store.


	3. Chapter 3

His first impulse is to simply go home, but realizes that he has no home here. Even if it might technically exist in this world that would probably also mean that there is a copy of himself residing in it and the idea of running into himself does not sound… advisable. He opts for a hotel room instead. After checking in, he sits down on the bed and just breathes for a while. _This is going to be alright_ , he tells himself. _I found Shindou, and no matter what, I do know him. I’ll fix this_.

He thinks for a while about what could possibly jump-start Shindou’s memories, and the most logical thing he comes up with is games. There are so many beautiful games that Shindou is connected to, so many memorable games he has played and if anything might help him remember these games are it. Actually having a strategy of sorts makes Akira feel much better and he goes off to acquire some kifu paper. 

He is a bit nervous walking around in Tokyo, worried about the risk of running in to someone who knows him. Or rather the version of him that exists here. He doesn’t know who or what he is in this world and he wants to avoid any confrontation. So he goes to a different go store than the one he normally frequents but still braces himself to be recognized. Wherever there are go supplies one or two people will usually know his face. 

But surprisingly no one does. It feels surreal to be so completely anonymous in what has always felt like his domain. Akira is not really conceited, but he has practically grown up in the limelight and his fame has only increased with time. Everyone in the go world knows him – has seen his face in the papers or faced him across the go board – and in the back of his mind he has always accepted this as normal. While he appreciates the lack of attention right now, it feels odd to be this invisible. Maybe he isn’t even a go player here. Maybe Shindou’s head has made him a factory worker or something. That cold he felt in Shindou’s store touches his neck again, slithering and wet. For a moment he feels a hint of the same dizziness. All those games that have never existed here; all the vanished patterns of stones… _But that’s nonsense_ , he tells himself, because played here or not all those games are still in his head. He remembers them and he will make Shindou remember. The cold dissolves but the memory sticks with him. There is something wrong with that cold; it feels almost sentient and it makes Akira wary.

He returns to the hotel and spends the afternoon drawing up kifus. He knows a lot of Shindou’s games by heart which helps, and he tries to write down the games that have personal importance to Shindou. Some of his and Shindou’s games. The one with Ko Yeong-ha. The Tengen final last year. He wishes he had a go board but considering the face Shindou made at the mention of go, a piece of paper is probably easier to get Shindou to look at than a board. He still has to find Sai of course, but if he can get Shindou to at least remember something about go he might remember something about Sai and then Akira can work from there.

After he is done he feels strangely optimistic. This is, after all, the essence of what Shindou is. It is both a start and a concrete strategy and he feels in balance the first time since he walked in through the door.

This time he doesn’t hesitate in front of the store. He straightens his back and walks straight in. It’s empty except for Shindou who stands motionless behind the counter, staring blankly in to thin air. He doesn’t even turn his head as Akira enters. Shindou looks like a shell of himself, as if everything he is has been pulled out of him. The cold, wet feeling still permeates the room and the air almost seems to be twisting like a living thing. Akira refuses to be intimidated. Hell can try its damnedest as far as he is concerned.

”Hey.” he says sharply.

Shindou looks up slowly. For a moment it looks like he doesn’t even recognizes Akira from this afternoon. Then he says,

“Oh, it’s you again,” and turns away. This time Akira refuses to stand around and being ignored though and even if this version of Shindou still brings him off balance he refuses to give in to the feeling. This is fixable and he is going to fix it! So he takes out his kifus and puts them right in front of Shindou.

“I want you to look at these”

Social niceties won’t get him anywhere with Shindou and while Akira ordinarily is never rude to people, Shindou in any form has always been the sole exception. Also he desperately wants to snap Shindou out of this lethargy he seems to be stuck in. Upset or angry Shindou he can handle. Uncaring and hollow Shindou he has no idea what to do with. 

But Shindou hardly reacts. He looks up with a mild sort of annoyance, as if Akira was some strange kind of mosquito.

“You’re sort of weird,” he says. “If you aren’t going to buy anything you shouldn’t hang around here.”

Akira can feel the cold in the store crowding him, searching, pulling and tugging. He is getting a bit dizzy again but he shakes his head and ignores it.

“I won’t leave until you look at them,” he says. 

Shindou sighs. He seems totally unconcerned by the fact that some stranger just walked into his store and demanded that he look at some papers. As if caring would take up too much energy. He just listlessly picks up a few kifu and looks through them. His face doesn’t change.

Akira doesn’t really know what he was expecting. A glimpse of recognition, a hint of something, a memory. But Shindou just stares at the kifu blankly with the same apathy as before. These games means nothing to him. The cold in the store is growing and Akira is shivering from it.

“They don’t mean anything to you,” he says and he doesn’t even realize that he has spoken out loud until he hears his own voice.

Shindou lip curls but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Sorry to disappoint you. Things generally don’t mean anything to me.”

It is a quip but for a moment, under the glibness, there is something else. Something broken and hollow and horrifying, and even though Shindou didn’t even raise his voice Akira is abruptly certain that Shindou is somehow screaming in agony and that an echo of that scream is reverberating in Akira’s head over and over again growing louder and louder. This is a world built around his despair.

And then the cold catches him. Suddenly Akira can’t breathe. His eyes grow blurry. The coldness slithers and twists in him and his head grows more and more fuzzy. He is starting to shake and he is forgetting. He is forgetting all his games. Not just the ones with Shindou but everything in connection to him. That drive he discovered in the face of a boy his age who held his stones like an amateur but played games so high above Akira that it hurt. All the anger and force and determination fade out, and all the game played with those emotions flicker and fall away like dead leaves. For a moment the only thing he can see is a go board with questions he can’t seem to find answers to and a go which never gets truly strong. And he doesn’t understand _why_. He has been looking and looking for the answer, for that missing piece of his game and it isn’t… 

The cold is alive he distantly realizes. It’s alive and it is feeding on him, drawing out his very essence from the depth of his chest and it hurts more than he can comprehend. It’s so cold. So desperately, desperately cold and he is drowning in it. He remembers sitting face to face with a man with an extraordinarily common face and remembers what he said, 

_“We cannot, however, guarantee your safety from getting caught in the despair of Hell. That is your own responsibility.”_

_Stop it_. He desperately struggles against the cold that is twining around him, pressing from every direction and seeping into his very bones. The despair of Hell. Absurdly enough, it didn’t even occur to him that it could be something tangible. He just walked on in a naïve belief that as long as he was protected from physical harm he’d be ok. Now he fights the cold, refusing to drown and his inherent obstinacy serves him well here. _Stop it_ , he thinks again, forcing himself to remember and the world slowly warms up around him. 

When the heat comes back he feels like he has run a marathon. He is gasping for air and his cheeks are flushed. He wonders distantly if he has been holding his breath. For a moment the only thing he wants to do is run. He has never been as afraid as he is right now and the thought of getting sucked into that cold vast nothingness again is almost too much. It takes him a few minutes to get that all-consuming terror under control. 

Shindou is back to staring in to empty air again seemingly unperturbed but Akira can still hear that scream like a whisper in his head. 

“Can you take those things of the counter? Other customers might come in.”

Akira really wants to hit him in the face. He carefully considers doing so, but he has a dreadful feeling in his stomach that it wouldn’t even make Shindou turn his head. He carefully collects the kifus and takes a deep breath. What he needs to do is to find Sai and to find Sai he needs to figure out how this world is different from the real one. What did or didn’t happen in this world which led to Shindou never looking at a go board? Since the simplest way to start probably is to ask, Akira does just that.

“Hey,” he says again. “Did you ever consider playing? Go, I mean?”

Shindou gives him that face again.

“Playing go? What the hell are you even talking about?” There is no hint of any recognition or interest but Akira refuses to let it go.

“Never? There was never any time when you wanted to?”

Shindou stares at him for a moment, then the corners of his mouth tilt upwards in a bitter smile.

“Oh, I get it now. My grandfather put you up to this.”

Shindou’s grandfather? He plays go Akira remembers. Akira has played with him once or twice. A decent amateur player and terribly proud of Shindou.

“No,” he says truthfully. “Why do you think he would?”

“Oh please,” Shindou turns away again. “Of course he did. It is a running theme in the family how I never apply myself to anything. Like it isn’t bad enough that they send Akari in here to nag me about my life choices and my eating habits. Now my grandfather had to hire some weirdo go freak to stalk me.”

“But he didn’t hire me,” Akira says, frustrated. “What would even be the point of that? And you never answered my question.”

Shindou laughs joylessly again.

“Look, I’ve already had this conversation with my family too many times and I don’t want to have it again. I don’t want to hear how I fail at life. I.Don’t.Care. Now I am about to close up, so if you aren’t going to buy anything get out or I’ll have you banned from the store.”

There is no real anger in what he says, just bitterness and infinite tiredness which just makes it worse.

Akira really wants to refuse, but the threat of being banned from the store makes him worry. And in all honesty, he can feel the cold twisting around him again, and the same dizziness coming back. To his own shame he can’t take another round right now. He is still feel like he is running away when he turns to leave and he desperately wishes that he could just grab Shindou and run.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promises, but he doesn’t know if Shindou even hears him.

He draws deep breaths as he gets out of the store, but there doesn’t seem to be enough oxygen in the air. He sits down on a nearby bench for a while trying to get some sun in his system but the longer he sits the more he realizes the truth of his earlier observation. This world is faded. The sun, the air and the people – everything has a slightly muddled quality that is becoming more and more apparent the longer he stays here. He is still shivering from the after effects, but for a moment he debates going back to the store immediately after all. The cold terrifies him, but the echo of that scream haunts him. But he isn’t sure if his presence even helps Shindou, so in the end he chooses to return to the hotel and consider his options again. 

It is obvious the cold presence – the despair of Hell – is centered around Shindou. Even if Akira can feel the cold in other places, it’s at its most compact and alive in that store. Akira thinks he might understand its workings now. When he was small he could never understand the fear of the ice hell, as opposed to all other Hell realms, but now he is reassessing that. The cold is eating up everything Shindou is pulling it out of him piece by piece. When Akira is around it also feeds on him, erasing not only all his memories of Shindou but all games Akira has played that has been affected by Shindou and all the inspiration he found in those games. Akira doesn’t belong to this Hell which mean that he can fight the despair, but Shindou probably never even had that option. _Nothing flashy_ , the man said and that much is true. It isn’t carving or burning or physical torture. Instead this Hell erases parts of who you are. All those things vitally important to your being, your whole joy at being alive is drawn out and devoured. It builds a world close enough to reality so you mind doesn’t question it while it consumes all the things you find important. Akira knows how essential finding go was to Shindou and he can see more than one reason why the despair would go after those exact memories. Not only was it the first thing Shindou was really serious about in his life but it is also the one part of him Akira can lay claim to. Without that…

Akira forcefully stops himself from finishing that thought. His hands are still shaking slightly from the memory of the cold, but he gathers his resolve. This is important, probably the most important thing he has ever done and nothing is going to make him run away from it. The only thing he can do right now is to return to that store and keep asking Shindou questions, and that is exactly what he is planning to do in the morning.

Determination or not, it takes Akira a long time to go to sleep that night and when he finally manages he dreams about ice encasing him a frozen claw prying his chest open, slowly devouring everything he is. He can feel the memories of everything he finds important being pulled away and he can’t find his voice to scream. The air in his lungs is ice cold and heavy and the world around him is breaking apart.


	4. Chapter 4

Akira wakes up in a panic, gasping for air and struggling to remember his own name for a moment, still caught up in the remnants of the dream. He spends a couple of minutes unmoving, feeling like a child that desperately wishes that his parents were here to make things better. But that isn’t going to happen so he forces himself to get up. It is still dark outside so he tries to keep himself busy with go problems. When the stores open he goes out and buys himself a foldable go board. As embarrassing as it might be, having a go board is reassuring. Go has always been an anchoring presence in his life and now he eases the pressing feeling in his chest by sitting down and laying out some games. Real or not, there is something desperately reassuring about the feeling of stones against his fingertips and when he finally leaves the hotel his hands have stopped trembling.

Shindou still doesn’t turn his head as the door to the store opens so Akira pointedly clears his throat. At least this time he recognizes Akira immediately.

“Oh, great. It’s you again. Didn’t I tell you to fuck off?”

Akira ignores that completely. No matter how terrible his night was the simple act of laying out a few games has done wonders for his nerves and he is filled with determination. The cold is there, thick and heavy, but it seems to have a harder time getting through.

“You never answered my question yesterday,” he simply says.

Shindou stares at him blankly so he clarifies

“About the go. If you ever wanted to play.”

Shindou’s face twists.

”Oh for fuck’s sake, not again. I told you yesterday, I don’t give a damn about what my grandfather wants.”

“And I told you yesterday that he didn’t send me.”

It is around now Shindou would normally start getting agitated, emitting all heat and anger. But in here, he doesn’t. He seems bitter and resigned and even if his resentment appears to be growing there is no heat in it.

“Sure, that sounds probable. But you know what, I don’t care. I told you before. Fuck off.”

And Akira, like he often does around Shindou, regresses to a grade school kid.

“Make me,” he says.

Shindou stares at him.

“I’ll have you thrown out of the store.”

“I’ll sit outside and wait for you,” Akira says without hesitation.

“God, you really are crazy,” Shindou shakes his head and for the first time Akira hears a hint of true exasperation behind then flat tone. “Fine. You know what, I don’t care. Stay here, I’m not going to talk to you.”

“Tell you what,” Akira says “You talk to me for an hour and I’ll leave for the day. Otherwise I’ll stay here until you close.”

He can see Shindou struggle with that for moment, but in the end an hour is apparently an acceptable price to get Akira out of his sight. 

“Fine, one hour,” he says, obviously disgruntled. “So talk.”

Akira is sort off balance by the fact that this actually worked, but he quickly finds his feet.

“Go,” he prompts. You’ve never wanted to play? You have never met anyone who made you want to play?”

Shindou stares at him again.

“It’s a stupid board game. Who the hell would make me want to play a stupid board game?”

Akira still wants to yell at him on principle just for saying that but this is probably not the time. The cold is twining itself around him, trying to get a hold of him. He shivers slightly, but he is warmer today and more optimistic, and that makes it easier to resist.

“Fine. Then do you know any go players? Except your grandfather, I mean?”

Shindou smiles unpleasantly at him and answers in one syllable.

“No.”

Clearly he has decided to be as unhelpful as possible. Akira spends the hour pressing and probing him but he doesn’t learn anything at all. Shindou doesn’t know anything about go, doesn’t want to know anything about go and has probably never played a stone in his life. He sounds hollow and bitter and appears to be in constant conflict with his whole family about his refusal to get engaged in anything. Sometime Akira sees a glimpse of something else under the emptiness but nothing that makes him hopefull. The only thing he can see in the cracks of indifference is pain. 

Exactly one hour later Shindou points at the clock.

“So,” he says pleasantly, “this wasn’t fun at all. Now get out.”

Akira really wants to argue for the sake of it, but a promise is a promise, so he leaves without protest. 

He spends the rest of the day at an Internet café searching for Sai. He scours Weekly Go and then every other go-related site he can find, hoping to come across any record, any reference to Sai or anything that could possibly be one of his games, but nothing shows up. In this Tokyo no Sai has spread any ripples across the go world. 

He does stumble across himself. He is included in an article about his father, sitting beside him with short hair and blank eyes. He is still a go player here, apparently. Something twists in Akira’s chest and it is morbid curiosity that makes him search out some of his own games. It is a stupid thing to do of course. Because when he starts looking at them he can feel the cold seeping in through his neck. The games are empty. Adequate. Not horrible the most of them. But empty. And Akira remembers again the feeling from the store and the go board in front of him with all answers entirely out of his reach. He quickly shuts down the browser but it takes a while for his breathing to calm down.

He doesn’t want to go to sleep that night so he sits up and tries to make a list of things to ask Shindou. But the exhaustion overwhelms him, and sometime before dawn he falls asleep despites his efforts. The nightmares come as soon as his eyes fall close. 

He dreams that he is playing a go game in a cave of ice, but every move he makes disappears as soon as he places the stone. There is supposed to be someone sitting opposite him, but the only thing there is a gaping hole. The whole time he hears someone screaming and he knows that voice but he is forgetting, memories slipping out like sand between his fingers. He tries to get up and follow the scream but he can’t - he is stuck in front of the board - and the ground is opening under him pulling him down into a thick, tarlike darkness.

It is almost evening when he wakes up with a heart that seems to be pounding out of his chest. Like the day before he experiences the same uncertainty of who he even is. Whatever walls that protects him from the cold when he is awake obviously does not work when he is asleep.

There isn’t much time left until the shops starts closing and Akira sincerely doubts that Shindou would let him into his home so he runs the whole way to the subway.

Shindou stares at him as he enters gasping half an hour before closing.

“What the hell. Didn’t I get rid of you yesterday?”

“Only for the day,” Akira reminds him.

“What the hell do you want from me?” and there is that anger again. It might not be warmth, but nor is it indifference and Akira takes comfort in that. If anyone in the world is capable of riling Shindou up, it has to be him.

”I want you to tell me about go.”

Shindou’s face twists again. 

“Stop it,” he says. “I haven’t magically become interested in it since yesterday. Just go home and tell him to mind his own business.”

All throughout their conversations yesterday Shindou remained dead certain that Akira is here on the behalf of his grandfather and that is apparently also true today. For some reason his grandfather’s involvement seems to hurt Shindou immensely. In the real world Akira has always seen Shindou and his grandfather as close but it doesn’t surprise him that in here, all the people Shindou values are the ones that hurt him.

“I told you. This has nothing to do with your grandfather. I just want you to talk to me about it.”

“But I don’t know anything about go, ok. It doesn’t _matter_ to me.”

“Fine,” Akira replies changing tracks. “Then what does matter to you?”

Shindou freezes and for a moment his face seems to be crumbling. It is as if Akira just punched him instead of asking a question. Then he moves. He gets very, very close to Akira, grabs his collar and his voice is low when he says,

“Here is what matters to me. Nothing. Do you understand that? Nothing matters to me.”

And Akira believes him. He believes him absolutely and it takes the air out of his lungs. 

With the same firm grip on his collar and Shindou simply lifts Akira and physically drags him out the store slamming the door shut in his face and locking it. Akira is so taken off guard that he doesn’t even find it in him to protest until it is too late. He stays outside the door for more than an hour but Shindou doesn’t come out and Akira suspects that he can stay inside the store the whole night if he is properly motivated so Akira finally gives up and returns to the Internet café. 

He goes back to the store the next day, completely exhausted after a night filled with the same cold-drenched nightmares. Shindou doesn’t even seem surprised to see him.

“Again,” he says tiredly, as Akira leans against the counter. “Do I have to punch you in the face to get you to leave?”

“That really wouldn’t help much.” Akira says, and it is the absolute truth, because even if he believes Shindou to be capable of it, Akira has spent his last few nights being tormented by Hell so physical violence isn’t terribly intimidating. Right now, a punch in the face only seems like a passable substitute for coffee. 

There is probably something in his voice that reflects his feelings because Shindou stares at him for a moment and then starts lightly kicking the counter with one of his feet. He seems jittery today and Akira doesn’t know if that is a good or a bad thing.

“So how can I make you go away?”

They have already had this conversation, and Akira looks down at the counter and takes a few moments to consider if he wants to tell Shindou just that or if he’d rather tell him to fuck off. He is desperately tired and he can feel the cold in the store waiting for him. He looks up and for the first time here really looks at Shindou up close. Shindou is freezing he realizes. He is shaking; small constant tremors run though his body, his arms are covered in goose bumps and his lips and fingertips are blue-tinged from cold. Even with the despair twisting in the store the temperature shouldn’t be low enough to make Shindou react like that.

“You’re cold,” he says quietly.

Shindou looks down on his arms and then smiles a bit bitterly. 

“I’m always cold,” he says. “They thought there was something wrong with me when I was a kid, but no doctor could ever find anything. Not like it matters, anyway. What, you want to warm me up?” 

The last part is obviously said to spite him, but it is true nonetheless. Akira understands what cold Shindou is caught up in. He has felt it himself, in this very store and in every dream he has had since he came to this place, pulling him down into a suffocating darkness, and the thought of living a lifetime of it is absolutely terrifying. _How long have you been here?_ he thinks. _How long have you been caught up in this cold?_

Unthinkingly, he reaches out for Shindou who flinches away from his hand like it’s poison.

“That wasn’t an invitation,” he snarls and turns his back to Akira who can feel his own cheeks heat more than they probably should.

“Sorry,” he mutters, “but you’re so cold.”

“Didn’t I just tell you it doesn’t matter? Don’t you have other things to do than to hang around here bothering me?”

Akira is too tired to get in to that argument right now, and too tired to even try to be subtle about his questions.

“No,” he says. “You want to tell me about when you grew up?” 

Somewhere in Shindou’s childhood he was supposed to meet Sai but didn’t. It is an awfully lot of territory to cover but Akira remains optimistic. Even though it is possible Sai and Shindou met by pure chance Akira has always suspected that Sai’s story was firmly entrenched in Shindou’s childhood. He still hasn’t figured out how Shindou could be playing Sai’s go one day and only his own the next, but he has gotten as far as concluding that even though the shadow of Sai is clearly visible in Shindou’s go Sai actually was a separate person. And if he was such a large part of Shindou’s childhood then Akira should be able to find some clues about him by getting to know Shindou’s past. Maybe his biggest error so far has been only asking Shindou things that could be connected to go.

Shindou stares at him like Akira just threatened to rob the store. But the expression in his face at least isn’t apathy which counts as a victory.

“God, you are absolutely nuts, did anyone tell you that?! What do you even-” then he casts a glance at Akira’s face and cuts off, looking exhausted. “Ok, fine. Great. My childhood. In excruciating detail. If I tell you, will you just leave?”

Akira really doesn’t want to agree to leave. He is running out of time. But he also realizes that his only chance is to keep Shindou talking. Plus Akira can feel himself getting more and more susceptible to the despair. Even as he’s talking to Shindou he feels his own memories getting vague and the cold is seeping into his skin like it is being absorbed. If he stays in the store for too long at a time he is afraid that he will lose himself like Shindou has and that they both will get caught here forever. So he promises to leave after Shindou tells him.

And Shindou does.

When Akira leaves the store his fists are clenched so tightly that he has a hard time opening them. Shindou’s childhood here has according to Shindou been largely uneventful. No terrible abuse or loss of loved ones. The main conflict in the family has seemingly always been Shindou’s complete apathy towards everything. But small pieces that came up in the story, things Shindou mentioned with indifference, almost made Akira sick. Like the fact that Shindou has a burn covering a substantial part of his lower arm. When Akira asked about it Shindou smiled wryly “I put my arm in a fire once,” he caught Akira’s expression and added, “I told you, I’m always cold. I wanted to see if it would warm me up.”

Akira was so horrified by this the only thing he actually got out was,

“Did it?”

“Warm me up? No. Nothing warms me up.” 

Not only does he feel sick, he didn’t find out anything that could possibly be of use. No one connected to Shindou’s childhood could possibly be Sai. The most prominent adults there are Shindou’s parents and his grandparents. The idea that any of them could be Sai is absurd. Akira is feeling frustrated and helpless and unsure what to do. He considers getting in touch with other people in Shindou’s life and trying to ask them. His mom or grandparents or Akari-san. But he knows from experience that in the real world they are all bewildered as to why Shindou even started playing and Shindou himself is stubbornly quiet on the subject. Whoever Sai is, Shindou has clearly completely separated their interactions from his own family. Akira can’t imagine they could tell him more here. In the end he chooses another Internet café. This time he chooses a café that is open all night and buys a substantial amount of coffee. He really does not want to fall asleep.

That is futile of course because his utter exhaustion isn’t natural. Even in front of the computer he can’t manage to keep his eyes open and he is distantly aware that his head hits the keyboard as he falls asleep.

He dreams about the black tarlike darkness, engulfing him, draining out his past. He can hear the screaming again, but if it is fading and dying away and in the dream that devastates him even though he can’t remember why. The darkness is seeping into him thick and liquid and no air is coming into his lungs. Slowly he stops existing.

He wakes up half lying across the computer table. No one in the café has bothered to wake him up. He doesn’t understand what he is doing here. He has to meet his father for lunch in an hour, has to sit and endure that disappointed gaze and pretend that go has any significance to him anymore. How did he even end up here? And why is he wearing clothes he doesn’t even remember buying? And what in the world happened to his hair? He probably should be upset over all these things, but he is too tired. It’s not like it matters. It’s not like anything matters. It is just a pointless succession of days where the whole world is gray and empty. He can just – And like a rubber band his mind snaps into place again and he grips the table in front of him so hard that his knuckles turn white. For a moment he thinks he is going to throw up. _That wasn’t me_ he tells himself. _That won’t ever be me._ He feels paralyzed with exhaustion but he can’t afford to sit still. Get Shindou out of here first, break down later. But his legs are wobbly when he stands to leave and the nausea stays with him long after he walked out.


	5. Chapter 5

When he comes back to the store this time not only does Shindou remember him but he almost seems to perk up a bit at the sight. However, Akira acknowledges that this can just be wishful thinking.

He slumps against the counter and Shindou studies his face.

“Rough night, huh?”

That is a massive understatement but Akira is too tired to get into that.

“Yes,” he just agrees. “Rough night.”

“I wasn’t sure you were coming back.” Shindou informs him, and Akira has no clue why Shindou would think that now and not after the time when Shindou dragged him out of the store by his collar. He points this out and Shindou sort of shrugs.

“Yeah, but you know, you didn’t come yesterday.”

“I didn’t come-“

Something cold twists in his stomach. _How long was I asleep?_

“What day is it?”

“God, you are so weird. I can’t believe people let you walk outside alone.” He looks at Akira and sighs. “It’s Thursday, ok.”

Thursday? One day left. Akira has to fight down panic for a moment. On the other hand this is basically the most Shindou has said to him without being blackmailed into it, so maybe Akira’s attempts are having some effect after all. If only he could get a clue to who the hell Sai is...

“This is going to sound strange-” he starts, but Shindou cuts him off immediately.

“Everything you say sounds strange.” He glances at Akira again. “Hey, can’t we just talk about other stuff for a while?”

“Other stuff?”

“Yeah, I mean. Stuff.”

The fact that Shindou actually wants to talk to him is comforting, but there is something desperate in the question and it hurts.

“Like what?”

Shindou’s face does that crumpling thing again, as if he hasn’t even considered what sort of stuff he was talking about.

“I dunno. Stuff. There are never any people here, really. Just Akari, sometimes, and she never stays. I just thought... There have to be other things you like.”

That is true, Akira realizes, he has never seen other people in the store. Just Shindou, day after day, completely alone, caught up in the cold. It makes him angry just to think about. He is once again hit with the desire to shake Shindou out of this, to make him start caring. The cold, the fear and the draining exhaustion are working against him, exacerbating his frustration.

“Stuff I like,” he says. “What about stuff you like?”

Shindou’s face closes down, like a curtain being drawn. Like last time he reacts to any mention of caring as if it was a slap in the face

“I thought we had this conversation already.”

“I don’t care if we had it,” Akira can feel his voice rising. “I don’t care. There has to be something.”

“No there doesn’t! How hard is it to get that? How hard is it for anyone to get that?!”

“But there is, you say there isn’t, but there is. I _know_ there is. Don’t tell me of all people that you don’t care about anything.”

Akira knows it isn’t fair. He is talking to the Shindou he knows, not this version, but he can’t seem to stop the words from coming out. 

And Shindou snap. He backs away defensively and yells, 

“Stop it, _just stop it_. Do you think I want this? Do you think I haven’t tried? It has always been like this. It has always been cold and gray and fucking empty. This is the only thing I will ever be, get it?! There is nothing. I'm nothing. This is all there is!!”

And for a moment his face is filled with such utter agony that Akira feels it like a phantom pain in his heart.

_This is all there is._

Akira shouldn’t have started this. And he should end it right now, but he _can’t_. The whole week has finally pushed him so close to his breaking point that he can almost hear something in himself snapping as well. 

“But it isn’t!!” he is yelling now too, and it should be normal for them, but there is nothing normal about this fight. “Can you just listen to me?! Because-“

“Oh, fuck you. I don’t want to hear this fucking speech again. You tell whoever it was that told you to stalk me to fuck off. Because let’s be honest, you’re not hanging around her every day for my sparkling personality, are you.”

Then, true to form, Shindou solves this conflict by running away. Or rather, by going into the backroom and slamming the door shut behind himself and Akira is so angry he literally goes and kicks at the door until Shindou threatens to call security.

Eventually, Akira just slumps on the floor on the other side of the door. He can feel the anger subsiding, leaving him drained.

“Look,” he says very quietly. “I’m sorry. I just…” He doesn’t know what to say. He has even run out of questions. ”No one told me to come here,” he says again. “I’m asking because I want to know.”

“Because my childhood is a period of great interest to you.” Shindou sounds as hollow and drained as he does.

Akira laughs a bit, because that is the only option besides crying right now.

“Maybe I was hoping for some skeletons in your closet,” he says. He is very rarely flippant, but apparently the fatigue is getting to him.

He can hear Shindou snort.

“I think my grandfather had a haunted go board in a shed once. Does that make you happy?”

A haunted go board – Akira suddenly remembers that go board. Not with a ghost obviously, just put away in Shindou’s grandfather’s shed. Shindou had shown him the board once. It was a beautiful board made from kaya wood. Akira could tell it was very old just by looking at it. He told Shindou that and Shindou had grinned.

“Yeah,” he agreed “it _is_ very old,” and then, “You know, everything started here. I mean, without this board I would never have gotten into go.”

Akira remembers trying to decipher that, because in his experience an old go board, no matter how beautiful, wouldn’t be enough to make Shindou interested in anything. At the time he said as much to Shindou who immediately took offence, and then they were off yelling. Akira never asked again. But he has wondered. 

Suddenly he remembers what the man actually said about Shindou when Akira asked about the deal. 

_“He was trying to reacquire a ghost.”_

A go board with a ghost. Shindou playing impossible games without even knowing how to hold the stones. Shindou arguing with thin air in front of a subway station.

Akira’s brain screeches to a halt for a minute. _No way,_ he thinks. _That is not actually possible._

Shindou’s games going from brilliant to horrible. Sai who only played over the Internet. Shindou at the Internet café. 

_But then-_

That makes sense. That actually makes _sense_. Akira would have called it absolutely impossible but he is sitting around in Hell at the moment, so the word “impossible” has pretty much lost all meaning. There are a thousand things he wants to ask, and so many complicated feelings to sort out, but he hasn't got the time. _Later_. Right now there is only one thing on his mind. No matter how incomprehensible it is, Sai is in that go board and if that’s so then Akira should be able to get the board to Shindou to get him to remember. The relief is so overwhelming that he his legs feels weak even though he is sitting down.

“Yes,” he says, his voice shaky. “That did, in fact, make me happy.”

Then he gets up.

“You’re leaving?” Shindou asks from behind the door and Akira can feel himself smile for the first time this week.

“Don’t worry. I’ll come back.”

He can hear Shindou snort again on the other side of the door, but tone has lost some of that hollowness and Akira takes heart from it. _This is going to be alright,_ he thinks. _We are going to be alright_. And he takes off. 

He goes to the same payphone that he used the first day. He has Shindou’s grandparents’ number properly saved in his mobile phone and he feels a moment of gratitude for the fact that his phone has contact numbers for basically half the people in Shindou’s life. He is a bit worried if Shindou’s grandfather will even help him, but if he remembers the rules correctly no being made by Hell can consciously hinder him, lie to him or refuse him information. He will find out where that damn board is and then he will get it no matter what. 

Shindou’s grandfather answers the phone and sounds delighted when Akira introduces himself as a friend of Shindou's, and even more delighted when he learns that Akira is a go player.

“That boy needs proper company. No guidance, no drive. That‘s what’s wrong with him. He sat around staring into thin air even as a kid. You couldn’t get him to care about anything. I tried, I can tell you, everybody tried, but he was just from a bad stock.”

Akira can’t imagine Shindou’s real grandfather ever saying anything like that, especially to a stranger. But things being the way they are, Akira just grinds his teeth and hums politely. Even if he rules say he can’t be hindered, lied to or refused information, he has no desire to see what loopholes there are if he were to start a fight.

He tentatively brings up the go board. He heard about if from Shindou and he is very interested in buying it. If it isn’t too much trouble, could he maybe even come and look at it?

Shindou’s grandfather sounds genuinely regretful when he answers.

“I’m awfully sorry. I think I got it from a relative ages ago, but I can’t even understand how Hikaru can remember it. The shed it was stored in burnt down when he was just a kid and the go board got destroyed. There is nothing left of it.”

Akira stands still for a very long time after Shindou’s grandfather hangs up the phone. The go board is gone. How is that even possible? That _can’t_ be possible. If the go board is gone that means that-

_“If you have any questions while inside Hell, please use the red phone beside the blue door.”_

And Akira realizes with a rising dread that he does have a question, one he should have asked even before he went in, but that he didn’t even consider back then. His legs are shaking all the way to the blue door. It is still there, with the red phone placed oddly beside it. It takes him tremendous effort to just lift it off its handle. 

“I have a question,” he says into the receiver, but there is no reply. Then the air near him ripples and the man with the painted face steps out through thin air.

“Touya-san,” he says pleasantly. “You called?”

Akira is chilled to his bones, and his mouth feels like cotton. 

“I-” he begins, then swallows and starts again.

“During our first meeting you told me that to make Shindou remember I needed Sai.”

The man’s looks at Akira with the same fixed smile. He appears to be waiting.

“Is that possible? Does Sai even exist in this world?”

The man keeps on smiling. “Sadly for you, no. As you had a chance to notice Shindou Hikaru’s fears are based on never being able to play go. In this reality Sai stopped existing before they could meet.”

He should have asked that a long time ago, he should have understood that a long time ago but it still feels like getting hit in the stomach.

“And I can’t make him remember without Sai?”

It comes out as a question, but he already knows the answer.

“No,” the man says mildly “Not without Sai. That is not how the rules work.”

“So you gave me a task that is impossible to accomplice.”

The man’s face doesn’t change, but for a moment, through what feels almost like a crevice in the air, Akira can feel his hunger. It opens up like a bottomless hole, impossible to fill. This is what the cold is made of; this desperate, insatiable, maddening hunger.

“We are Hell, Touya-san. Just because we have guidelines to follow doesn’t mean that we have to play fair. And this way we can save up on compensation.” 

The painted face seems to be cracking at the seams and the smile grows impossibly wide “But we will miss you if you leave _Touya Akira_. Your despair is delicious.”

Akira should have realized this. All this time he has been sidetracked by the absurdity of what was happening, when he should have wondered what Hells agenda in all this was. Hell wasn’t allowed to harm Akira directly or to lay claim to him and purposefully catch him in a world of his own despair, but because they are so close – so very similar – Hell could get him caught up in Shindou’s despair instead. There was never any even ground here to begin with, never any way to get Shindou out. Akira was just an added bonus, sent in here to get lost. He feels the cold presence tighten around him; touching something deeper than it has before, making his vision blurry. He flinches back violently, feeling sick and the feeling eases, but remnants of the cold still lingers, chilling him to the bone.

The man is still endlessly smiling.

“I apologize, I overstepped my boundaries. But stay here _Touya Akira_ , embrace your despair and fall. Rest assured, we will take good care of you."

With that he is gone but Akira remains shaking and unable to move for a very, very long time.


	6. Chapter 6

Akira goes back to the store. It isn’t really a conscious decision but his legs seem to be on auto-pilot and Shindou’s presence is pulling him in. His hands are still shaking so much that he has trouble getting the door open. 

Shindou has emerged from the backroom, and his head turns immediately when Akira walks in. At any other time Akira would view this as a victory, but right now he can’t even lift his own head. _I don’t know what to do,_ he thinks. _What can I possibly do?_ He is shaking from the cold.

“Have you been crying?”

Shindou sounds horrified, which doesn’t help ease the ache in Akira’s chest one bit. Even if Shindou cares, even if he has started to react to the world around him, it isn’t enough. There isn’t enough time and there is no Sai that can push him over the edge into remembering. There is nothing.

“No,” he snarls, and then ads “shut up” even though Shindou isn’t saying anything. He feels the cold touch on his neck again climbing down along his spine, blurring his memories and restricting his airways. Hell is feeding. _What was I doing here, again?_

His mind is foggy with cold and he can’t seem to clear it. There is something he has to do connected to a blue door but he can’t remember what.

Shindou has resumed kicking the counter with the tip of his shoe and is giving Akira increasingly worried glances. The silence in the room is oppressive.

”Hey,” Shindou tries again. “Did something happen?”

Akira isn’t even really listening. He is still caught up in the cold, struggling and failing to keep his memories alive. A perfect meal for a small, family-run establishment. 

“Is this about that stupid board game again?” Definitely anxious now.

Shindou is clearly worried about him, and Akira tries to collect himself. But he can’t fight the feeling of helplessness that is drowning him. _I... I don’t remember. What was it I was supposed to do?_ He is so very cold. There is something in his go that is missing and he doesn’t understand what. He can see it in his father’s face and in Ogata’s pointed comments. He knows his mother worries. But he doesn’t know how to-

“I mean, how hard can a dumb game be?”

It is the last part that finally snaps Akira out of it. It is obviously said solely to rile him up, but it still works like a charm. Because in that moment, Akira actually, for once, forgets all the right things. He forgets that Shindou is lost, that they don’t even know each other in this reality. He just hears that dismissive provocation and reacts to it like always has reacted to every single stupid thing Shindou has ever said, and the cold melts away. His head snaps up and he looks at Shindou, really looks at him, like he would look at him from across a go board.

“I’ll show you how hard,” he says.

And something flares up in Shindou’s eyes, a reaction and an answer to that underlying invitation for a fight and for a minute everything is exactly the same as it has always been. Because that’s Shindou, the real Shindou, under all the layers of emptiness.

 _”Fight me.”_

_“Always.”_

Then Shindou looks away, confused, maybe scared, and visibly trying to regain his feet. But he’s awake now, aware of Akira’s presence in a way he wasn’t before and something curls in Akira’s stomach. Shindou has told him this before he realizes, after a league game when they both got very drunk. They rarely talk about their first games, mainly because Shindou avoids every mention of them like fire, but that day they did even if Akira can’t even remember how they got started on the subject. But Shindou had laughed at him then, and told him that how weird he had found it as a kid that Akira was chasing him everywhere demanding games in something as stupid as go. Akira was a bit miffed to hear that, he remembers, even if it was fairly innocuous.

“It wasn’t only me,” he had said with annoyance and a somewhat wounded pride. “You chased me too, remember?”

And Shindou had grinned, all relaxed and happy.

“Yeah, but that wasn’t even about go in the beginning, not really. I just wanted you to look at me with those eyes again.”

At which point both of them realized what he was saying, Akira had gone red, Shindou had spilled all his sake and neither had ever brought up the subject again. Right now Shindou is reacting to those same eyes, to that challenge, with a heat Akira hasn’t been able to bring out of him so far this week. All parts of Shindou is still exists, waiting to be remembered. _This is one half of his go,_ Akira thinks. _And the other is Sai. There has to be a way to find Sai, there has to be a way to-_

And then he knows. He almost laughs out loud, because it is so obvious. He puts out his hand towards Shindou and suddenly he feels like twelve again, standing in front of the subway exit demanding a game that would change everything. 

“Alright then. Let’s play a game right now.”

Shindou stares at him bewildered, obviously not prepared for this sudden mood reversal.

“But I, uh, I know I said… but… I mean, I told you, I don’t even play go,” he says almost pleadingly and visibly embarrassed, but he isn’t backing away. Akira wonders if Shindou even can back away or if it is a universal constant that they will rise up and face each other’s challenges.

“Yes, you do,” he simply says and grabs Shindou’s hand, dragging him along. That must be an utterly nonsensical statement to Shindou who could have objected in a thousand ways but the only protest he makes is about leaving the shop unattended. Akira ignores him. Shindou keeps yanking a bit to get his arm back, but there is no real force in it, and soon he just gives up and allows himself to be tugged along. Akira wonders if Shindou somewhere in the back of his head recognizes the situation too. 

They are quiet on the way; Shindou doesn’t even ask where they are going. He just shuffles his feet on the subway and looks uncomfortably at Akira from under his bangs when he thinks no one is looking. If this wasn’t so deadly important Akira would laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

They reach their destination. His father’s go salon. It is evening and the salon is closed and dark, but Akira has his key from the real world and it works perfectly. He pulls Shindou behind him to the same table in the corner where they had played their first two games.

Shindou clears his throat awkwardly and stares at the board as Akira pushes him down into the seat and sits down opposite him. When he looks up, they just look at each other from across the board for a few moments. Then Akira simply slides the goke with the black stones towards him and holds his breath.

“But”, Shindou says, the first thing he has said for at least a half hour, “I really don’t know how to-”

“Shut up”, Akira says. “Just place your first stone.”

His voice is firm but his stomach is tight with panic, because _if he is wrong_... He wonders if Shindou is going to argue, but he doesn’t. Strangely subdued, he hesitantly picks up a black stone, holding it incorrectly between his fingers. Akira’s hands are clenching and unclenching under the table. He isn’t sure, he really isn’t sure, until he sees a strange shiver go through Shindou and sees him place the stone in the right place on the board. Akira almost cries with relief. What Hell doesn’t understand, he thinks, is that he knows Shindou better than anyone. Even if Shindou doesn’t remember them, all the pieces of what makes him are still there. _“Sai is in my go”_ , he told Akira that time after Hokuto cup, and that is the truth. It doesn’t matter if this world never had Sai. The Sai Shindou knew is still in him, still in every stone Shindou will ever place. Even if Akira doesn’t fully understand who Sai was or what happened to him, he knows _this_ , this game that had to be one of the first ones Sai played with Shindou’s help. It has always been Shindou’s games that protect the existence of Sai and now, in here, placing stones on a go board for what probably is the first time in this reality, Shindou is also coming face to face with Sai. Remembering him.

They play quietly. Akira has replayed this particular game so many times that he doesn’t even have to think about the placement of the stones. Shindou seems to be getting more and more certain of where his stones should go next, but his hand is shaking worse and worse. When there are four or five moves left before Akira resignation, Shindou suddenly slides the stone correctly between his fingers and slams it down like he has been doing it his whole life, then he freezes, staring at the board. Abruptly he makes a sound like something is physically hurting him and puts his head in his hands. 

The salon is completely silent. Akira waits for a moment, holding his breath, but Shindou stays unmoving with his hands over his face breathing in and out. Akira hesitantly gets up and walks up to him. 

“Shindou?” he carefully says and places a hand on Shindou’s shoulder unsure. Shindou shivers again still quiet and his hand presses harder against his face for a moment. Then suddenly he moves. He lunges forward, grabs Akira’s shirt and pulls him in, leaning with his face against Akira’s chest, his breath picking up pace. It takes a while for Akira to realize that Shindou is crying. Pressed up against him, Shindou is making quiet gasping sounds and his shoulders are shaking. Akira can feel his shirt getting wet. They are both still silent. Akira is feeling totally lost about what he is supposed to do now. He settles for awkwardly patting Shindou on his head for a while but that really doesn’t seem enough. Finally, he decides that he has to say something. He can’t stand the silence anymore.

“Shindou,” he says again, hesitantly. What he means to say is _Are you alright?_ but what comes out is “You are getting snot on my shirt,” which isn’t what he wanted to say at all. Shindou stills and then he sort of vibrates against Akira’s chest and Akira realizes that it is from laughter. 

“Yeah, well, it’s an ugly damn shirt.” Shindou says, still with his face in said shirt. “You should be grateful that it gets any action at all. Stop taking fashion tips from Ogata-sensei.”

It is hard to explain the dizzying relief he feels at Shindou talking like Shindou again and Akira starts laughing too. He can feels his own eyes getting wet and he can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed about it.

“Shut up”, he says, but there is no bite to his voice. “At least my clothes fit me.” 

Shindou gives of a muffled snort and doesn’t move for a moment, then he carefully wipes his face against Akira’s shirt and looks up. His eyes are red, but he looks _alive_. He looks like Shindou again with eyes filled with promise and intent and drive in a way that makes Akira’s chest ache with relief and gratitude. 

“Hey,” Shindou says, his voice a bit wobbly.

Too which Akira probably could answer a number of things, but the only thing he manages to get out is, 

“God, you _asshole_!”

And Shindou starts laughing again but it is a laugh dangerously close to crying.

Akira honestly doesn’t know what to do with him. One part of him desperately wants to hug Shindou really, really hard or do something equally embarrassing, the other wants to punch Shindou’s lights out for putting him through this. But most importantly, he wants to get both of them out of here _right now_.

“Shindou,” he says, his voice a bit hoarse. “We have to leave.” 

Shindou doesn’t seem inclined to protest. He just wipes his face again and nods. 

“Yeah, leaving would be nice.” 

Which possibly is the biggest understatement of the century, but Akira feels no need to point that out. He is fairly impressed that neither of them has broken down in hysterics yet.

They don’t touch on their way to the blue door, but Shindou stays so close to him the entire way that they might as well have. Akira compulsively checks that Shindou actually is right beside him the whole time and for once Shindou doesn’t even seem inclined to make fun of the situation. The blue door is still in exactly the same place, looking weirdly misplaced in the dark ally. They stand quietly in front of it for a moment.

“That’s the door out,” Shindou says, and it isn’t a question. Akira wonders for a second how much Shindou knows about what went on here, but he doesn’t ask. Instead he just grabs Shindou’s wrist again, opens the door and pulls him through.


	7. Chapter 7

The door returns them to the office. The pleasant man is sitting behind the desk again looking at them with the same fixed smile but something in the air tells Akira that he is much less amused.

“Well,” the man says. “I must admit, this is a huge disappointment.”

Shindou grabs Akira’s shoulder so hard it hurts and they both stand very still. Like the last time, the office is caught up in absolute silence, and Akira is sure both his and Shindou’s heartbeats are clearly audible. 

“Oh, well, what can you do? The rules must certainly be abided. You have staked your claim Touya-san. But we will miss the taste of your despair Shindou-san”

 _Shindou-san_ now, not _Shindou Hikaru_ and that subtle change is enough to ease some of the tension in Akira’s shoulders. 

”Well, if I may see your hands, I’ll confirm the transaction.” 

He sees the looks on their faces and adds very pleasantly,

“Oh, no need to worry. We did lose this case, and it can’t be contested. This is just a formality. Part of the paperwork, if you will.”

The only reason that Akira stretches his hand out is that he still has the knowledge in the back of his mind that says this man doesn’t lie. Shindou must feel it too, because he holds out his hand at the same time. 

The man touches their palms with his fingertips, and for a brief moment Akira can see a red thread connecting him and Shindou flair up. It starts out frayed, filling up with color and thickening before it fades out of sight again, but Akira is almost certain he can still feel it, a slight tug between them. For the first time since he woke up on that Friday morning, the pressing unease disappears from his chest and the world clicks back into place.

“Touya-san, Shindou-san, you are free to take your leave. If you find anyone in need of any assistance from Hell, please recommend us. We are a very small Hell, and extra business is always welcome. Have a delightful life, and please remember our services.”

And then the world tilts again. In a blink they are suddenly back in the real world, in Shindou’s apartment for some reason, still pressed up against each other and tensed for a fight. They are both absolutely quiet for a moment. The sun is shining, and they can hear faint bustle of people on the street outside, all intensely alive in contrast to the muted, faded reality of Hell. Akira opens his mouth, closes it. Tries again.

“What day is it?”

Shindou’s hands shake a bit as he lets Akira's shoulder go. He makes his way to the TV, turns it on, and the sound of the morning news fills the room. It’s May 5th, 8 am - exactly the time when Akira was on his way out the door. No time has passed, no one has had the chance to miss them and Akira still has a student in forty-five minutes. 

They are quiet again. There are probably about five million things they should be asking each other right now, but when Shindou opens his mouth it is with a request. 

“Touya,” he says, almost desperately. “Please play a game with me.” 

Akira doesn't have time for a game. He has two students and an interview scheduled for this morning alone, and a Chinese class and a game in the afternoon. He has never skipped out on any responsibilities in his life. 

But now, standing here in Shindou’s apartment with Shindou’s eyes on him, he wants that game more than he has ever wanted anything. He needs it like air and he can feel his heart squeeze at the thought of it. The image of the go board devoid of any answers is still fresh in his memory, as is the feeling of losing himself to that cold darkness.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, mouth dry. “Let’s play right now.”

He does have the forethought to actually call in sick. There is no denying that he is creating trouble for a great deal of people right now and Akira should be horrified with himself, but he’s not. All he can think about is Shindou and Shindou’s go and the tug of the red thread between them.

They don’t stop at one game. The firsts couple of games are basically speed go, just the fast succession of stones on the board; the fourth is slower, and by the fifth Shindou is yelling at him in righteous indignation again. Akira is so happy to hear Shindou’s yelling that he is close to actually giving him a hug, until he is side-tracked by something utterly _moronic_ Shindou says and starts yelling too. It is dark when they finally stop, and Akira is pretty sure his phone has been buzzing a dozen times. He realizes that there probably are a lot of people wondering where he is right now, and he is going to answer, he _is_ , but right now he and Shindou are lying on the floor next to each other and are simply breathing in sync. The silence is very comfortable, but Akira is the first to break it. Because even if he figured out the basics, there is still a story he wants to hear from Shindou himself.

“So, you want to tell me about Sai?”

Shindou stiffens for a second and his hands clench into fists, but he relaxes almost immediately, and laughs under his breath.

“Yeah, I suppose that story isn’t that unbelievable anymore, huh?”

Akira simply raises his eyebrows at him. He feels he is getting pretty used to unbelievable.

“When I was twelve, I was in my grandfathers shed with Akari, looking for something to sell…”

Turns out that Shindou _really_ wasn’t exaggerating when he talked about unbelievable, and that is despite the fact that Akira has figured out the part about the haunted go board. If Akira hadn’t just spent a week in Hell, one that apparently wasn’t even a minute in the real world, chances are he would have thrown something at Shindou and gone home. Now he listens silently, caught somewhere between fascination and resignation. _Of course_ Sai was a 1000-year-old ghost that lived in a go board. _Of course_ he once possessed Shuusaku, played all his games and returned through a twelve-year-old boy that never touched a go stone in his life. _Naturally_ , all because he desired to reach the Hand of God. What was Akira expecting, really? If you wanted to stick around Shindou, these obviously were things you had to grow used to. But when Shindou’s story reaches the – spectacularly misfired – attempt to bring Sai back and doors to other dimensions, he can’t possibly keep quiet anymore.

“But what were you thinking?! Are you _insane_? You had to have understood how dangerous that was?!”

Shindou’s eyes have been suspiciously wet during the story and now he turns his face away, but Akira can hear his voice shaking.

“I just. I just wanted him back. I mean,” - deep breath -“I mean, everyone wanted to see him. Your dad wanted to, and you and…” Akira can hear Shindou swallow. “And I missed him. I really, really wanted to meet him again, and when I found that book I thought-” He laughs self-consciously and rubs his eyes. “You would have really liked him, you know. I wish you could actually have talked to him.”

Akira swallows too, feeling inadequate. He is good at being polite, and over the years Shindou has made him really adept at pissed off, but he feels helpless when it comes to comforting people. He wants to know what to say so badly, but the words seem to get stuck in his throat. 

“I’m sorry,” is the only thing he gets out. “I wish I could have talked to him, too.”

Shindou smiles at him, still a bit red-eyed.

“Yeah.” 

They are silent for a few minutes and Akira takes some more time to think about the fact that Shindou was sort of possessed by a 1000-year-old ghost. It isn’t as hard to wrap his head around as it probably should be.

Shindou shifts.

“So now you know, huh? I mean, now you don’t have to bug me about it anymore.”

“I wouldn’t have bugged you about it if you hadn’t played impossible go,” Akira points out, miffed. “How the hell was I supposed to know that you played on behalf of a 1000-year-old go genius half the time?”

Shindou grins.

“Well, how was I supposed to know you were some tiny go prodigy? You looked like a normal kid. Just, you know, with stupid hair.”

Then, totally bypassing Akira’s outrage, he adds,

“And technically, that wasn’t any of your business, was it?”

“Not any of my business?!” 

Yes, the Shindou who makes him want to break things is well and truly back.

“You asshole! You’re my go rival, I am damn well entitled to know everything about your go.” Then, suddenly remembering where he has been for a week, he adds,

“And your go is _mine_. Even HELL says so.”

But Shindou switches from amused to serious so fast that Akira almost gets whiplash.

“But am I still? Your rival, I mean?”

Akira can only stare at him in response, because after all they have been through the past few days, this has to be the dumbest question anyone has ever asked him. Shindou sees his face, fidgets in discomfort and tries to explain.

“I never played those games. The first ones, I mean. That was Sai.” 

He stops and then quietly adds,

“It was never me you were looking for.” 

Akira carefully considers what to say, but in truth, there is only one answer to that, no matter how melodramatic it might sound.

“I don’t know why Sai stayed on this earth,” he says slowly. “I don’t know what his purpose was or if he achieved it. But if there is one thing that I believe, it is that we were put in this world to play each other.” 

There is no doubt that it sound terribly presumptuous and grand, and Akira fully expects Shindou to laugh at him, but that doesn’t make it less true and it had to be said. 

But Shindou doesn’t laugh. He breathes out, “Touya.”

And when Akira turns his head and looks at him, Shindou has an expression on his face that Akira has never seen before. His chest heats up and he can feel his heart pounding. Suddenly he can’t look at Shindou anymore, so he closes his eyes, but he can hear Shindou move and then he feels a soft pressure on his lips. _Shindou is kissing me._

_You should probably panic,_ a part of his mind tells him. _You should get up, answer your phone and put an end to this._ After all, he has been trying to ignore these feelings for years, but right now he can't for the life of him remember _why_. The fact is that he doesn’t want to put an end to this. He doesn’t care what he should be doing. His face is burning and he can hear his own heartbeats pounding in his ears. He pulls Shindou down instead and opens his mouth to Shindou’s tongue, allowing the kiss to grow deeper and he can feel his hands shaking as they finds their way into Shindou’s hair. Then he uses his bodyweight to flip them, because Shindou should never get anything exactly his own way. He can feel Shindou laughing into his mouth. Akira’s whole body feels like it’s on fire, and the heat is almost painful but he relishes it; the total opposite from the cold that has been crowding him for days. He doesn’t answer his phone for a very long time.


End file.
